


this is a portrait of a tortured you and i

by coldwavelegends (deathsdaleks)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not A Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsdaleks/pseuds/coldwavelegends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick knew there was a chance that his partner – ex-partner – would be here, seeing how as they landed in Central City pre-Waverider, pre-Rip fucking Hunter.</p><p>-</p><p>Based on the promo for "Destiny" and is not a fix-it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is a portrait of a tortured you and i

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write, because I am a crap writer. This is actually my first fic, so I'm sorry if this is terrible, but this little snippet wouldn't go away and I just have a lot of feelings about Mick and the punk kid he saved in juvie, okay?
> 
> Do I really need a disclaimer? because if I really did own the characters, they'd be married and Len wouldn't be dead. I will, however, claim that this is unedited and unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

When Mick stepped into Saints and Sinners, all he wanted to do was drink the last few days away. Maybe if he can’t remember – if he was too drunk to remember – then it didn’t happen. Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan. His footsteps faltered the moment he enters the bar, his eyes automatically going to the usual spot, to see Leonard Snart nursing a drink. Mick knew there was a chance that his partner – _ex_ -partner – would be here, seeing as how they landed in Central City pre-Waverider, pre-Rip fucking Hunter. But it didn’t occur to him until this moment that he would _see_ Len.

Mick’s feet started to move on its own, towards where Len is sitting, running on autopilot much like everything he’s done during the last few days. Since- _no,_ Mick doesn’t allow himself to think about it. Len had knocked him out to play the hero and when Mick came to, he didn’t have to look at his teammate’s faces to know what happened. He has never been more fucking furious at someone for trying to save his life.

Sitting in the seat next to Len, Mick orders a drink. Or three. He gets a raised eyebrow when he downs it all in go, but the other man doesn’t say anything.

Mick turns to face him, trying to decide between punching Len out for what he hasn’t done – not yet, this Len is still just a thief – or simply drink in the sight of him like it’s the last time he’ll ever see him.

It might as well be.

“You got something to say, say it.”

Mick wants to say a lot of things.

_Don’t go with the Englishman._

_Don’t be a fucking hero._

_Don’t leave me._

Instead, Mick orders another drink and they sit in silence. The ring hanging from his neck feels heavy.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm coldwavelegends on Tumblr. Come find me and we can weep over this beautiful pair and everything that's ever happened.


End file.
